The Mantle's Gauntlet
by BattalionTroop
Summary: The meeting of two galactic powers never ends happily, but for these two, this meeting may be the only way to prevent the total annihilation of both. The Mantle is not given, it is earned, and it is only earned through the gauntlet. "I am the reaper of your existence; I am the harbinger of the end. I am eternal, I am all encompassing, I am the monument to your sins."
1. ZERO HOUR

**ZERO HOUR**

**Nos' Calos, Vruvian, Main Commercial District**

**Simon "Gorgon" Lewinski**

**August 17, 2602, UNSC Standard Military Calendar**

**The **roaring deluge of rain battered the central streets of the once densely populated urban community, now, a barren, war-torn, shelled-out husk of its previous glory. The once proud housing complexes, easily several stories tall, were now but bitter reminders of the many firefights and skirmishes that ravaged the area. Whole sections of buildings and street were literally gone, with holes large and small, some able to fit the entire armored bulk of a Basilisk, urban siege machine within them, littered the devastated landscape. The bodies of men and women of several species dotted the battlefield, all with varying forms of injury, and some already in various states of decay. The entire scene overlooked the rest of the city, having been built on a hill-top on the outskirts of Nos' Calos, and gave a grand view of the total destruction that used to be one of Vruvian's largest metropolises.

The Turian city was a burning, depressing, completely ravaged landscape, with entire sections, easily several blocks wide nothing but craters. Many of the once fearsome spire-like skyscrapers that once defied gravity and stretched to the heavens, now strained to support their own weight; some stayed upright, leaning against other still-standing skyscrapers, others lay sprawled across the ground, having crushed anything and everything that was unfortunate enough to be in the behemoths' paths as they succumbed to the laws of nature.

Every now and then, explosions, tracer fire and the screams of soldiers escaped the city, displaying the fact that there was still fighting going on in the ruined cityscape.

It was a fact that was mostly ignored by a one sergeant Lewinski, who was preoccupied with his task at hand: escaping from his pursuers.

Back in the commercial district, a large metallic appendage peeked from behind one of the many piles of debris, a lone camera and advanced sensory equipment quickly and quietly examining the environment around them. After a few seconds, the appendage eased itself back into cover, and ever so slowly, a smaller than average mech took the appendages place and observed it's surrounding for itself. The machine had obviously seen better days, with dents, craters, holes, slashes, and worst of all, a nearly destroyed left "arm" being the first thing one would be attracted to in the face of the armored war-machine.

The nine foot tall, UNSC STRSgWkr VII "RERIR" was one of the newest of the UNSC's line of siege walkers. Designed to be the ultimate urban fighting machine, the walker boasted an impressive 110mm "Royal Fire" smooth-bore cannon on each arm which fired high velocity depleted uranium-tipped thermobaric shells, protruding out of the slot right above the walker's 3-fingered "gripping" claws, which were capable of reducing slabs of concrete to so much fine powder. Concealed in the "palms" of the claws was a tri-barreled M219A flamethrower, which could retract and be replaced with the walker's smaller compliment of a tri-barreled 25mm auto cannon. Completing its arm arsenal was the UNSC's own brand of plasma sword, the type-1HV energy saber, courtesy of the Sangheili. The three foot long blades of energy extended out from the space where the claws would go, only able to be activated once the claws had completely been retracted. On the RERIR's right shoulder was an experimental railgun, capable of firing a fifteen pound high explosive or armor piercing shell at speeds exceeding mach 8. Behind its left shoulder was a MAULR, 8-barreled area supremacy rocket launcher.

The sixty-some ton beast was protected mainly by its MKIV-P personal energy shield, which was accompanied by the 50cm of titanium reinforced armored plating, both working together to protect their single-occupant from the outside world.

It was a fearsome monster, able to clear most if not all enemy resistance single-handedly, and if that didn't work, then just send more mechs. It was a monster of the battlefield…

…And now, it was on the run.

Sergeant Lewinski surveyed his surrounding one last time, before he heaved a mighty sigh that soon turned into a pained groan as his Rerir abruptly fell on its back, unable to support the titan's weight on its damaged leg anymore. Simon popped out of the hatch that appeared between the two sections of the chest plate which split to reveal the cockpit of the walker. Smoke and sparks escaped the consoles as Simon staggered onto the top of the downed mech to survey the extent of the damage.

As he slid down the side of his machine, he noted the many claw and slash marks that crisscrossed over entire sections of the titan, and he winced at the angled remains of his left arm, the result of his 110mm cannon being forced to fire pointblank while malfunctioning, a dire consequence of a necessary risk turned disappointing loss.

Simon's hardened grey eyes finally fell on the damage on the rear of his mech's left leg, where, to his relief, he found that the damage was already under repair, the result of some spare emergency micro bots that he had luckily saved. Once he was sure the servos and hydraulics that allowed the leg to properly move were set properly in place, the sergeant and, so far, only survivor of the previous firefight, hopped back into his controls, booting the Rerir's systems back up, however, just as he was about to continue towards the city towards his next objective, a horrible sense of dread filled his very being. It was awful, it was repulsive.

It was wrong.

As he struggled to turn his Rerir to face his assailant, and most likely his executor, he heard a whisper in his mind, a voice that penetrated deep into his very soul. Simon could only watch in mute horror as an abomination slithered from the shadows, his body too enraptured in absolute, primal fear to move. His eyes trembled, struggling to look away from the perversion of organic and technological fusion. His very being wept and trembled from the _thing_ before him.

_I am the reaper of your existence; I am the harbinger of the end._

_I am eternal, I am all encompassing,_

_I am the monument to your sins._

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><p>Read, review, and tell me what you think about this preview of things to come.<p> 


	2. Just Another Day

AN: Hey, Troop here, and let me tell you guys, I didn't expect a positive, if any at all, response for that first chapter, but don't think that I'm complaining or anything! Anyway, just for the record, the last chapter was supposed to be confusing, as it was an introduction of sorts and I felt that it needed to be unclear and confusing, if only to make you guys want more. Anyway, onto the main beef of the story, all will be revealed…

In time…

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><p><strong>J<strong>**UST ANOTHER DAY**

**Southern Peninsula, Threnody, Forest Sector 217-A**

**Simon "Gorgon" Lewinski**

**June 17, 2589, UNSC Standard Military Calendar**

**Silence **reigned across the woodland area, the absence of sound so absolute that the faintest rustle resounded throughout the range of trees and undergrowth. The ambience held with it a very tense atmosphere, even though there was no apparent source of said tension.

The scene was finally disturbed by the slight movement of a bush near one of the vast "Great Red-Woods" that were sparsely sprinkled here and there throughout the forest. Not a sound was made as a wavering apparition slowly, cautiously, exited its previous place of hiding. The spectral form made its way to another large bush, moving with a sense of careful urgency. As the being reached the bush and concealed itself once more, it began to waver, the layer of light-bending energy slowly dissipating, finally revealing the true form of the hidden predator.

A large cloak covered the figure concealing most, but not all figure. Long talons gripped the under barrel of a dark green alien rifle; the figure also seemed to hunch over, and peeking from the long hood was the tip of what seemed to be a beak like mouth and which seemed to be set into what looked like the alien equivalent of a grimace.

Continuing onwards, the unknown seemed to ghost across the forest floor, it's armored talons gracefully treading across the ground, leaving no trace of its passage through the area. The hood of the cloak slowly swiveled around, indicating that the silent assailant was surveying its surroundings; analyzing and examining its environment.

It eventually reached a small overhang, created by the crisscrossing of several trunks and branches, some loose pieces of bark dangled down, creating the affect that the trees were about to stomp down and crush the little alcove they had created by entwining themselves the way they had.

The figure approached one of the trunks, and leaned against it. While that action may have been normal, it was what it did next that would have turned a few heads. Raising one clawed hand, it rapped its knuckles against the trunk, which responded with a dull metallic clanking sound, completely uncharacteristic of the apparently not-so-wooden tree. Said "tree," then began to speak, it and the hooded figure engaged in conversation as if it were completely normal.

"You got the recon done?"

"Affirmative, the entire perimeter is locked down, sentries and patrols have every corner of the place under watch, not a single blind spot. Mines and anti-vehicle traps and countermeasures are set up at every place with an entrance of more than six feet, so no armor at all. IF we're going in, we're going in bare."

The tree just grunted in response, before it, and an entire section of the overhang began to shimmer as well, eventually fading away to reveal the camouflaged armored bulk of a Rerir siege walker. The walker shuddered a bit before it finally moved, separating itself from its previous crevice, slowly walking to a nearby area where it proceeded to "sit" down.

Out from the central chest area emerged an armored figure, which turned to its apparent ally and took off its helmet. Dirty brown locks adorned the top of the pilots head; a face mask painted to resemble a mass of snakes covered the bottom half of his face, leaving only his stormy grey eyes uncovered.

Simon tapped the panel on his right forearm, which split to reveal a blue tactical screen, the majority of which was dominated by the polarized visor of another pilot. The upper right corner of the screen displayed the information of the pilot, identifying him as corporal Lance Jenns, the sergeant's second-in-command, and the pilot of the squad's STRSprtWkr VII-S "FLANGIL" variant. This variant of the Rerir was geared and armed to take a long-ranged support role via its vastly different arsenal. According to the information on the screen, Jenns was set up approximately five kilometers south of their position, right next to the extraction point; just the way they had discussed in briefing just hours ago.

"Sir, what's the matter?" Simon could almost picture the corporal's face scrunched up in concern; honestly, he cared too much for the rest of the squad, almost acting like the squad's mother in a way.

"Make sure the extraction zone is secure, we'll be going in loud and bare, no walkers. You're to make sure that all hostiles stay either in or out of the facility; no one leaves, and no one gets in, you got that corporal?"

Lance just inclined his head and gave a curt "Sir," before Simon terminated the link. Looking up at his companion, he received a nod from the still hooded figure, before the two set off for their destination, the large Forerunner facility just seven kilometers north of them. The ancient construct's large spires stretched towards the sky, creating the image of a massive claw reaching for the heavens. Identified as an ancient communications/transport hub, the UNSC had found the facility five months after the initial discovery of the Forerunner world. While not a shield world, Threnody was still invaluable since, scattered across the entire world, large remnants of ancient Forerunner tech were left out in the open, ranging from small outposts, to what would have been the human equivalent of New York except for the size, scale and architecture that the Forerunners were known for.

What would have been a grand blessing for the UNSC and its allies, turned into a lengthy, bitter struggle, when a Storm-Covenant fleet jumped in-system, revealing the location of the world, along with their enemies' presence to the devoted followers of the late Prophets. While the actual space-naval warfare always leaned in favor of the UNSC and the Neo-Covenant, ground combat had been a whole 'nother story. The Jiralhanae and what few Sangheili remained in the Storm after the Arbiter's renouncement of their false religion always turned the tides of battle, fighting with a "religiously righteous" fury that seemed to make them invulnerable on the field, effectively turning a simple firefight into a grueling competition to see what ran out first: the blood in a furious Elite and Brute combo, or the ammunition in a marine squad's pockets. Of course, accompanying the Elites and Brutes were squads and squads and _oh so many more _squads of enslaved Unggoy, all being forced to fight in the name of the Old Covenant. Also within the ranks of the Storm were the few Mgalekgolo who stayed within the old Covenant either out of "personal" reasons, being forced to stay, or simply not caring.

As the duo reached the two kilometer mark, they were suddenly joined by five more individuals, all of which took up positions to create a loose formation, steadily advancing through the last stretch of woodland before the facility. The small squad, completely consisting of mech pilots slowly approached the cave-like entrance of the Forerunner complex, and just as the recon specialist had said, it was crawling with guards and sentries.

The leftmost of the squad, a one lance corporal Adam Vergas, the designated heavy weapon's specialist whistled into the comms. "Damn Dask, when you said it was filled with guards, I didn't think that the entrance was literally filled with guards..."

The now identified "Dask" removed his hood, allowing his dark plumage to spring free. Sharp, reptilian eyes fixed themselves on the squad's heavy, the Kig-Yar's gaze seemed to go past the polarized visor of the helmet and bored directly into the man's own eyes. "Are you insinuating that I was lying about my report?" While not particularly hostile, the alien of the squad always seemed to have a sharp, critical tone present whenever he spoke; especially when one questioned the authenticity and thoroughness of his reconnaissance.

The armored figure's shoulders shrugged, then rose as they hefted the man's M248-A General Purpose Machine Gun. "No, but that just means we'll have more enemies to kill…" The tri-barreled death dealer began spinning up, an ominous hum began to emit from the customized weapon, the inner mechanisms activating, coating gaps and crevices throughout the gun with a burnt orange glow. "…and the more enemies there are…"

The hum that was emitted from Vergas' gun was soon joined by five more, the entire squad's weapons having been activated in response to Adam's own, creating a quiet harmony of coming death.

"…the more fun we have tearing them apart."

The Sangheili guards were the first to notice the disturbance within the tree line, and they were the first of many Storm Covenant casualties that would occur within the secluded ancient communications hub. That day, the Forerunner complex bore witness to its first taste of combat and death in over a hundred millenniums.

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><p><strong>Threnody, Outer Orbit<strong>

**Admiral Mikael Glasjev**

**Endurance-Class Super Heavy Cruiser, "Winter's Howl"**

**T**he CIC of the ship was dark and quiet, the only sounds escaping from the confines of the darkened interior were the gentle hums of the consoles as they ran automated processes, the nearly indecipherable whine of the ship's filtration systems pumping a breathable mix of gasses throughout each deck of the cruiser, and the angry drumming of an anxious captain's fingers on the armrest of his command throne.

A veteran of the Great War nearly forty years prior, the fifty seven year old native of Mars had seen much action throughout the three theaters of war he had been in: the insurrection, the Human-Covenant war, and now, the "Storm's Rising", the name the Storm's newest leader, the prophet of Reconciliation, had bestowed upon the now more than thirty year long "conflict". Conflict is the closest thing to describe the situation that now pestered the UNSC and her allies. While the true, full-scale war had ended years ago, the pockets of resistance and the not so common wandering battle group still persisted throughout the Milky Way, leaving a thorn in the side of the UNSC that wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon.

Back in the dormant bridge of the _Winter's Howl_, the captain continued drumming the fingers of his right hand into the side of his seat. It had been a solid three hours since he had given the green light for operation Tumbler, and so far, no word had been heard of from Mythic, the elite mech squad of the prized shock trooper battalion, the 17th Shock and Awe. The last he had heard from the squad was the team's sniper and lookout reporting a "complication," with the operation, then he too, had disappeared in the direction of the ancient alien complex.

While not particularly worried about the operation as a whole, this _was_ one of the best squads to ever have been fielded by the UNSC in the past fifty years; he was worried about the price of the completion of the mission. While they were one of the best squads in active duty, they were still human(and Kig-Yar), and thus, while they may complete the mission, that isn't to say someone might bite the dust along the way.

While still contemplating the possible results from the operation, the captain soon received a much needed distraction in the form of a message on his console. Taking a second to calm his nerves, Mikael then motioned for the message to display itself on the main display of his throne. Only a few seconds after reading the message, the captain already had a frown on his face, "Zenith, wake the crew, and call for full battle readiness, we are at alert level 3!"

The central pedestal in the middle of the room changed from the image of the UNSC's emblem, to that of a yellow tinted woman in a long flowing sleeveless dress, the bottom of which fluttered as if caught in a smooth mountain breeze. "As you wish captain. If I may inquire, just what do you plan on doing with this…discovery our forces have made?"

The fifth generation "smart" AI's suave, and silky voice would have no doubt brought a lesser man to his knees. "I'm making sure the Storm doesn't get their filthy hands on it…." Captain Glazjev was not a lesser man.

Maneuvering thrusters along the ship's hexagonal hull burst into life, as they sent thousands of pounds of force in the opposite direction from which they were facing, completely flipping the full 2150 meters of ship on its y axis. The lone cruiser broke formation from the other five ships in-system, another Endurance-class and four Troy-class standard frigates, who simply reformed themselves in order to compensate for the departure of the _Winter's Howl_, an event that was previously explained to the captains of the other ships by Zenith.

As the large ship hurtled through the atmosphere, one thought was prominent through the captain's mind: "What the hell is Mass Effect…?"

* * *

><p><strong>Forerunner Communications Hub, Inner Chamber<strong>

**Simon Lewinski**

**A**nother round of plasma flew by the sergeant's face and dissipated against the ancient forerunner alloy behind him, forcing him behind the console which he had been using for cover once again. "Damn it…" Simon gripped his Maverick MK.42 hand cannon tighter, the grip of the gun squeaking under the pressure. He took a moment to survey and assess the situation around him.

After initially clearing out the main passages of the complex, he and his team had successfully reached the inner sanctum of the facility, a large, circular room whose ceiling seemed to stretch to the top of the facility; if the large pillars of energy and data streaming upwards into the darkness were any indication of the sheer height of the building. Right in the center of the room, surrounded by raised dais and consoles, was a large projection of the world made of hardlight suspended above a two meter deep, five meter wide hole in the ground.

Said hole, as well as the terminals and any other forms of cover were what Simon and the rest of Mythic were now hunkered behind, and had been for the past ten minutes. While they had been expecting reinforcements, they never could have planned for the enemy to respond as quickly as they did; Vergas's burned and pock-marked armor, as well as the team's technical expert Mallory Hans' broken leg and bleeding face were testament to that.

Two more plasma rounds impacted against the already worn and torn terminal that sheltered Simon, making him pause before he returned fire; specialized 50. Caliber armor piercing tungsten rounds were magnetically propelled through the barrel of his Maverick, accelerated to hypersonic speeds and sent straight at a poor unshielded Sangheili's face, the first few rounds missing, but the fourth finding its mark, completely obliterating its head and splattering the few remaining Unggoy's with the saurian's brain matter.

"Sir! The download's nearly-" boom"-complete. Just a few more minutes," called the injured Mallory from the lip of the pit.

Turning, Simon acknowledged the statement made by the downed pilot, her blood-caked face screwed up in a mix of pain and concentration, probably more of the latter, as she worked to transfer the data from the ancient forerunner terminal to the hard drive the team brought along in case this type of situation occurred. Boom. Oh, and she was also taking potshots at the enemy with her KSH, the twelve gauge slugs having a devastating effect when they hit.

As the last of the Storm was felled by the efforts of Mythic, the room once again became silent, the ambience returning to its previous air of ancient mysteriousness that reigned through every forerunner facility, interrupted only by the sound of clanking and shuffling as the team regrouped around Mallory.

"Done," with a final sigh, the combat engineer disconnected her tacpad from the console, and started to get up, before she was grabbed by Vergas. "Hey!"

"Hush, no use trying to walk out on that leg, just shut up so we can get out of here."

With an indignant huff, she conceded, and the team began double timing their way back through the corridors of the facility, retracing their bloody "breadcrumb" trail back to the exit.

Passing another corridor, the leftmost of the squad, Yves Lambardy, the youngest of the squad and one of its assault specialists, decided to voice out a concern. "Uh, I was just wondering… what happened to Jenns sir?"

Glancing back, then down at his tactical pad, Simon could only shake his head. "We can only assume that he at least secured the entrance if the absence of covvies is evidence enough. Comms are still out, so we'll kick that can of worms when we get there."

Several minutes of jogging and idle chitchat to pass the time gave way to the group reentering the main chamber, scorch marks from their "grand entrance" contrasting with the grey-white of the walls and floor.

Holding up two fingers, Simon took point by the burnt out entrance, the rest of the squad taking up positions against the walls and behind any cover. Peeking from behind the door, the sergeant briefly surveyed the area just outside the entrance before letting out a sigh from his nose. "At least tell us its clear man."

With the barest hint of a smile from beneath his bandana, Simon stepped out…

…into the clearing full of UNSC personnel, all of which were busy setting up a perimeter and securing the bodies and weapons of the deceased Storm soldiers. And in the midst of the organized chaos stood the eight and a half foot tall FLANGIL of a certain corporal.

"'Bout damn time you guys came out. Well, hurry up, I've already relayed the intel to the captain about your discovery, and he's already told HIGHCOM. Turns out, they seem really interested in this, 'innovation,' you guys found. Heh, 'mass effect,' sounds like something from a comic or a video game."

Looking back at his team, then at the Dragonfly that had just touched down and opened its troop bay, Simon could only groan as he took off his helmet and bandana, wiping the sweat off his face in the process. "Just another day huh?"

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><p><strong>Halflax Bar, Citadel Commercial District<strong>

**Urdnot Wrex**

**September 22, 2192**

**T**he strong burn of the hard liquor that was currently racing down the Krogan's throat sent shivers through his spine; the hard Turian-made vodka was definitely one of the best he had tasted so far. Wiping his mouth he slammed his mug down on the bar, signifying to the exasperated bartender that he had finished _yet another_ glass.

"This drink, I like it! Another!" Wrex let out a belch and turned towards one of the many holoscreens and idly listened to what the reporter on screen had to say as he waited for the Turian to retrieve another glass.

"_As you can see Roren, the peace talks between the council and the Geth Sovereignty have once again come to a standstill. Even with the recent aid provided by our synthetic allies, the majority of the Quarians still have yet to let go of the past grievances the Geth have inflicted on them. Even after the conclusion of the Reaper War, hostilities between the two are present and as heated as ever. Now, I believe that S'Zal has an update on the Vol-"_

The rest of the report fell away to the battlemaster's own thoughts as he grabbed the now refilled glass of Evaraclear and downed it in one swig. Setting the glass down, he held his head in his hands as he thought of the Quarian-Geth situation.

'We finish a war against an ancient alien race of genocidal robots and those idiots still care for some 300 year old grudge…'

Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the fact that someone was approaching him from behind.

Almost.

"You know, it's not polite, smart, or fun to sneak up on a Krogan."

"Neither is having to find your armored ass in this maze."

Turning, Wrex found himself looking at the blue and black armored suit of a particular C-Sec officer, former crew member of the Normandy, and one of the best damn snipers he had met thus far.

"Heh, back to C-Sec Garrus? I thought you wanted more of a fast life, more action."

The former war-hero chuckled and took the seat next to the armored Krogan, ordering some mild Turian brandy before addressing his friend. "It hasn't been as quiet as you think, even with you gone."

The Krogan laughed. "What? Some crooks managed to steal a fresh shipment of Phaestons? Were you chasing a jewel thief and stubbed your talon? Oh no wait, some duct rat took your money? My my, how the mighty have fallen."

The Turian could only roll his eyes at his friend's jabs, having grown used to Wrex's taunts and mockery. "Sure laugh it up, not like you've done any better."

"Oh, the little Turian thinks he can match me?"

"No, this 'little Turian' thinks that youre just full of shit Wrex." Garrus grinned right back up at Wrex, both boring into each other, before they both let out their own chuckles and each downed their drink.

"So, what did you come looking for, because I highly doubt you'd leave yor precious post just to find little ol' me."

Paying for his and Wrex's drinks (something he noted and would save for a future time), he motioned for Wrex to follow him. "Actually yes, but let's take this somewhere else…"

* * *

><p>Arriving at the entrance of the council chambers, the two made their way towards the elevators to take them up to the councilors themselves.<p>

"…I'd heard rumors, the occasional whisper in a bar and the random person talking in the streets, but I didn't think that it was serious…"

The Turian could only nod his head as he flashed his badge towards the sentries that approached the two for confirmation. "Yeah, and if what my informant's said is true, then it's a whole lot bigger than that…"

The two made their way across the atrium and soon found themselves outside the doors leading into the council chambers.

"Ready?"

A nod.

The two entered, and were immediately greeted by the sight of the three councilors, as well as the sight of a certain female Quarian, a Geth platform, and the last living Prothean.

The Asari councilor, the centuries old councilor Tevos was the first to notice the entrance of the two. "Ah, you've finally arrived, now while it may seem rushed, I believe that you five are acquainted enough to skip the formalities, we have a… development that needs attending to."

Quickly joining up with their former squadmates, the five (well really four, Legion couldn't possibly do this) exchanged glances and confirmed their assumptions, this was _big_.

Taking up positions around the holotable, the Salarian councilor quickly linked his personal pad with the terminal, and soon, a video depicting a fleet as well as what appeared to be a mass relay of some sort was displayed

A successful jump, some basic exploring, a warning by the sensor's operator after the discovery

of a seemingly colonized garden world, a panicked shout from the same officer, then….

As the video played out and the events unfolded on screen, the four organic members of the squad could only widen their eyes in disbelief at the events onscreen.

Meanwhile, Legion's "eyebrow" was raised well above his optical sensor, his equivalent of pure surprise as he surmised the collective thoughts of the five into three simple words:

"This is…unbelievable…"

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><p>Hey readers, Troop here, and, to get it out of the way, HAPPY NEW YEARS! Sorry for the lack of updates, but, it's just my nature to basically put everything off till the next day (a tactic that is at the moment killing me in high school 0_0. Anyways, here's the next chapter; read favorite, follow, review, whatever, just show me that this story's worthy of being on this site, and I'll try to write to satisfy you guys.<p>

Till next time!


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